Time Dies
by grendels
Summary: After almost twenty years of not speaking, Roger stops by Mark's home just "see how he's doing". /Written for RDV's 1000 words Or Less challenge:October.Light Mark x OC, Mark/Roger friendship/


**A/N: Well this was written for Rowena DeVandal's 100 Words Or Less Challenge for October. The Challenge was to write a fic about where a character of your fandom would be 20 years from the time of your fandom. In this fic, the year would be 2008, Mark is 42 and Roger is 40. More time-line related stuff on the bottom. Hope you guys like it and reviews are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

He's always been a night owl, nocturnal, Mark called him. All dark and quiet-like. It's damn dark now, this suburban street, with the orange and yellow leaves glowing in the pale streetlights.

Roger Davis kinda sorta hates the world and from this corner of the universe, it's easy to see why.

The leaves crunch under his boots as he walks, counting the numbers on the identical houses as he passes them. Damn cabbie didn't know where the fuck he was going, did he? Roger had said the address to him loud and clear. 9563 South Sycamore. Not that damn hard to remember.

And Roger would know. Trust him, Roger would know. He stared at the piece of paper with that address written on it for the entire bus ride from East Village to right outside of Scarsdale.

9557…9561…6563. Here it is. Just as identical and home-y as the others. Roger stands outside for a moment, taking in the grinning jack-o-lanterns on the porch, the nicely kept lawn, the light glowing from the picture window in the front of the house.

No, no, not the house. Mark's House. Yeah, with a capitol H.

He gathers up every scrap of courage he has in his body and walks up the steps, his hand hesitating on the door. Jesus, going through withdrawal is _nothing_ compared to this.

He knocks.

XxX

Mark looks different now. Not so much that he's grown up; just that he's sobered up. Which makes Roger a little angry, makes him feel like he missed all the good parties while he was away. But underneath the laugh lines and the polo shirt and the ridiculous corduroy pants, it's still Mark. His best friend.

Roger forces a smile on his face. "Hi." He tells Mark, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mark won't slam the door in his face. Because, at this point, after everything that's happened, the chance of that is increasing every minute that they stare at each other in silence.

"It's cold out." Mark says, his eyes glassy. 'You should come inside."

XxX

Mark's House looks nothing like the loft, which is a bit of a piss-off and a bit of a relief because Roger hates and likes to think that Mark has left Bohemia behind. There's fire going in the fireplace, the orange flames crackling against the bricking and it strikes a chord in Roger as he remembers the illegal wood burning stove.

"So…" Mark begins, putting his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. "What brings you to Scarsdale, Rog?"

Roger stutters for a minute, because he thought he had all the answers for all the question Mark would ask him, but this is a curveball. He shrugs his shoulders. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." And that says a lot but it doesn't say everything and Roger's getting kinda uncomfortable because the weight of that they should say is making it awful hard to breath.

"I just wanted to see how you're holding up."

"Thank you for inquiring, but you're ninteen years too late."

"I'm sorry, Mark."

"You should be."

XxX

He shouldn't be surprised when he sees the wedding photo or the school pictures. But he is. Like hell. She's pretty though, all dark haired and dark eyed and sultry.

"What's her name?" Roger asks, gesturing to the wedding picture. Mark looks surprised for a minute, blush creeping in under his cheekbones.

"Triss."

"And the girls?"

"Shana and Margaret."

He gestures to each of the photos as he says the names. Shana is the elder sister and looks exactly like her mother. High cheekbones and thick, dark hair. But her eyes are all Mark. Clear and blue and pretty. Margaret is a tiny little thing, with blonde hair and brown eyes framed by glasses.

"How old are they?"

"Fourteen and six. Another one is on the way."

"A baby?"

"Yeah. In November."

Roger stares at the pictures for a second, his chest constricting. He wonders if this could have been him. Boy, did he fuck up or what?

XxX

"Daddy?" A voice jolts him out of this thoughts and he spins around, just in time to see a little girl, who he assumes to be Margaret, enter the room.

Mark turns to her. "What are you still doing up, silly?" Margaret rocks back and forth on her heels as she speaks, her tiny hands on the hem of her nightgown. "I heard someone talking and I thought it might be a monster, so I came down to see."

Mark chuckles and scoops her up into his arms. "It's not a monster, honey. Just an old friend of daddy's. Can you go back up to bed for me?" The girl hesitates, staring at her father. "M'kay." She finally says, kicking her legs as Mark sets her down. She scrambles up the stairs to the dark hallway above. They both watch her go.

"We call her Mimi."

That's all Roger needs to hear.

XxX

The clock chimes eleven o'clock and Mark jumps up.

"It's getting really late, Roger. You should go..." And suddenly Mark is practically pushing him out the door.

Roger plants a hand on the door frame and turns around, locking eyes with his former best friend.

"I'm sorry, Mark. That's what I came here to say. I'm sorry that I left you, that I never turned around to face my problems, that I didn't come back when Meems and Collins died, that I haven't contacted you for the last nineteen years and…"

Roger exhales.

"That's all I can give you. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Rog. So am I."

"Goodbye, Mark."

"Bye, Roger."

The front door slams shut.

XxX

Roger Davis kinda sorta hates the world and from this corner of the universe, it's easy to see why.

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A/N2: So, the time-line. I actually wrote this all out so I would have an idea of what was going on. **February 1989**-Maureen and Joanne move to Virginia, where Joanne took up her father's law firm. **July 1989**- Mimi dies. **August 1989**- Collins dies. **September 1989**- Roger leaves, but Mark stays. **December 1989**- Mark gets a new job working as a filmographer for a sociologist. **March 1990**- Mark meets Triss after she applies for an internship under said professor. **May 1992**- Mark proposes to Triss, she accepts. **July 1992**- Mark and Triss get married. **April 1993**- Maureen is killed in a traffic accident. **May 1994**- Shana Angela Cohen is born. **January 2003**- Margaret "Mimi" Mairen Cohen is born. **October 2008**- Roger visits Mark for the first time in 19 years. **November 2008**- Thomas Collins Cohen is born.

Props to anyone who can figure out the significance of the Cohen girl's middle names.


End file.
